


The Borders - Pt. 2

by princesspark_28



Series: The Borders [2]
Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Cute Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Football | Soccer Captain Louis Tomlinson, M/M, Minor Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Niall Horan & Harry Styles Friendship, Singer Niall Horan, Singer-Songwriter Harry Styles, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:00:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesspark_28/pseuds/princesspark_28
Summary: Two years after the events of The Borders - Pt. 1
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: The Borders [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692544
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	The Borders - Pt. 2

### The Borders - Pt. 2

Harry was running late. 

Late, as in, thirty _entire minutes_ late. 

He probably should’ve been more upset about that fact than he was, but it wasn’t really possible given how drunk he was at the moment. The thing was, he hadn’t even meant to get this drunk. He only wanted to get a little buzzed before the big game, so that he could properly cheer and vibe with the other football fans.

But he was drunk, _really_ drunk, because it just couldn’t be helped when your best friend was an Irishman who lived up to the stereotype. By the time Niall had made it to his apartment, he’d already downed three White Claws, figuring that was the appropriate amount of alcohol to get him tipsy and keep him that way for the next few hours. 

Niall had other ideas. 

The lad, now brunette, had stormed into Louis and Harry’s flat holding a wholesale sized bottle of Irish whiskey. He threw his keys on the floor without much thought, slipping out of his trainers and walling, “Mate, you guys need to get me a new fuckin’ key. That one sucks, had to twist it like five times to get it to work just now.” 

Harry looked up at Niall from his spot on the couch, rolling his eyes playfully and pushing up from the soft, light grey cushions. “Sure, it’s the key’s fault, Ni. Not the fact that you’re piss drunk at eleven in the morning.” 

“Hey, we had a busy night last night,” Niall poked one hard finger into Harry’s chest when he stopped by the arm of the couch, “or, maybe you don’t remember,” he grinned. 

“Please,” Harry scoffed, crossing his arms to his chest in mock annoyance, “if anybody doesn’t remember last night it’s you. I had two drinks and then I went home with my boyfriend. What time did you stumble home?”

“Maybe I never made it home,” Niall shrugged, pursing his lips. “Not every day you get to celebrate the ending of your first world tour.”

Harry’s brows shot to his hairline, a look of disbelief washing over his features. “You what?”

“Mate, give me a break, okay?” He was now holding the bottle of whiskey in his arms like a baby, walking away from the couch and Harry to head for the kitchen. “You didn’t let me drink all tour, I deserved to go a bit hard.”

“Niall, seriously?” Harry followed him, chuckling as he watched his friend grab two shot glasses from the cabinet. One was the Irish flag – it had just showed up at their apartment one day, Niall denied his involvement but always, always used it – and the other was a pink Power Rangers design. 

Niall only grunted in response, so Harry continued. “I limited you to one drink preshow and two after. It was for the sake of putting on a good show for our fans. And, I don’t know, not wanting to get chucked from the label because you had to stop the show and puke into a nearby refreshment bucket.”

“It was one time in uni, Harry,” Niall glared, abruptly stopping the pour of amber liquid. 

“All it takes is one time for the label to decide we’re not worth it and then I’m back to playing for other people as a hired guitarist, and even then you wouldn’t even be able to hire me ‘cos you’d be out of a job too, so I’d have to play for random people and,” Harry snapped his mouth shut when Niall attacked him with a hug.

“Relax, H, I’m sorry,” Niall gave him a squeeze. “I always forget how self-conscious it makes you that I was signed as a solo act before you and I decided to become a duo. You don’t have anything to prove, not anymore, and not before either, if we’re being honest. You’re a bloody natural, mate.”

Harry was shaking his head before Niall had even finished, “What if they decide you’re better alone?”

“Fuck them if they do, but I know they won’t. If not because of how successful our _world tour_ the last five bloody months was, then ‘cos they wouldn’t want to waste all that merch with your ugly mug on it,” Niall released Harry and gave him a playful nudge, turning back around to finish filling the shot glasses, right to the brim.

Harry gave him a honest giggle, trying to pull his pink glass away before Niall had the opportunity to keep pouring. “We did have a pretty great tour, didn’t we,” he shyly spun the cold glass around the marble countertop and gave Niall a glance.

“Yes, that’s why we fucking deserve to get drunk as shit right now,” Niall shouted, jumping up and down, his open bottle of whiskey still in hand, droplets sloshing out and around the room. 

“Jesus,” Harry yelped, reaching a hand out to grip Niall’s wrist before he pried the bottle away from him and set it on the counter. “We do have a game to go to, in,” he shot a look to the digital clock on the microwave, “an hour and a half.”

“Don’t be such a bore, I know for a fact your boyfriend would want you to get plastered right now, it’s what he’d do,” Niall picked both of their shots up from the counter and shoved Harry’s in his direction. 

“I mean, you’re not wrong, I guess,” Harry softly smiled, remembering the few times Louis had made it out to a couple of their UK dates and was dancing, drunk out of his mind at the barricade with Zayn and Liam. “Okay, just a few shots Nialler,” he had agreed, before the pair promptly finished half of the brand new bottle together.

So, Harry blamed Niall not only for his piss-drunk state, but also for Harry forgetting to change into Louis’ jersey – he now had his very own, properly fitting _Tomlinson 28_ replica jersey – before they left the apartment. Which, was the reason they’d had to stumble back after they’d already walked halfway to the stadium. 

The only saving grace was that they didn’t have to wait in the long security lines with the other late fans who anxiously bobbed on their feet, eager to get into the already-started game. The security knew who Harry was by now, he didn’t even need a ticket. All he had to do was walk to the front of the line and security would pull him through a side gate. Niall always got in as Harry’s plus one.

As Niall and Harry drunkenly wandered the outskirts of the stadium, heading for the private elevator that would take them to the sectioned off box seats, an excited scream stopped them from their giggle-and-punch-each-others-dicks fest. 

They both turned wide-eyed and caught off guard to a teenaged girl, whose own eyes were bugging. She was pinching her own arm, nervously biting at her bottom lip. Harry cast a glance to the girl’s family, who were more annoyed than worried about the situation. Her mom looked to be digging through a large purse, while the dad began to approach Niall.

“Hiya, I don’t mean to bother you, but my daughter’s a pretty big fan of yours,” the dad stopped his advance and turned to grip his daughter’s hand – still pinching – and tug her forward. 

By the time the girl had made it next to her dad, eyes now watering a bit, the mom had pulled a copy of their album and a black sharpie out of her purse. She handed them to Niall, who fumbled a bit, still _very_ drunk. 

“Natalie, darling, don’t you want to say hi?” the mom encouraged, giving her daughter a tight smile and then offering one to Harry.

“Uh, I, hm,” she stuttered out, cheeks heating in embarrassment. 

Harry realized that this girl was way too nervous to get through this moment without guidance, so he sidled up next to Niall and threw an arm around his shoulders, doing his best to appear sober. 

“Hey, Natalie, was it?” Harry smiled, waiting for the girl to notice he’d acknowledged her. Her eyes snapped up from the floor, and she looked slightly less terrified as she made eye contact with Harry’s. “What was your favorite song on the album?” 

“ _Sweet Creature_ ,” she answered easily. She was timidly smiling now, her red cheeks slowly returning to her normal tone.

“Oh, ace,” Niall grinned, pulling away from Harry’s embrace to instead use his back as a surface to place the CD booklet on so he could sign it. “Harry killed it with those lyrics, don’t ya think?”

“Yes, oh God, yes,” she ran a hand through her hair. “That song means so much to me, you have no idea.”

Niall handed the booklet and sharpie off to Harry, and offered up his back as a clipboard. “Do you always carry a copy of our album in your purse?” Harry asked the mom, pausing his signature to give her an amused smile.

“Heavens no, just at the games,” she laughed, shaking her head.

Harry gave her a confused, unsure look before Natalie spoke up again.

“I uh, always ask my mom to bring it for me, when we come…” she was clearly nervous to say the next bit. “…you know, in case we bump into you.” 

“You bring a copy of the CD, because you’re hoping to run into me, at a Chelsea game?” Harry was done signing the album now, and he handed it back along with the marker. 

“Well, because of Louis,” she mumbled out, nervously pulling at her fingers. 

Harry was nodding his head along before he finally understood what she meant. She was a fan, obviously, which meant she probably knew about his dating life, and that she knew about his very committed relationship to Louis, who was captain of the Chelsea team. “Oh!” he shouted, more embarrassed than anything that it had taken him so long to connect the dots. Which, he was going to blame Niall for, because _Jesus_ was he fucking drunk. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I know you don’t like to talk about your personal life and stuff,” she was tearing up again. “But, I just, you _both_ mean so much to me.” She quickly glanced to Niall, turned beet red and yelled, “You too!” 

“Oi, chopped liver, fu-dge,” Niall clamped his mouth shout, nervously eyeing the mom and dad. 

“No, I love you Niall, really, I do, I just…” she was rubbing her tears away, sinking into her mom’s shoulder, who had not hesitated to rub her daughter’s back in a soothing motion.

“I’ll offer some explanation,” the dad caught Niall and Harry’s attention. “You see, I’ve been a Chelsea fan my whole life,” he paused. “Then they signed on some Tomlinson kid, and boy, was he something,” he gave Harry a grin, who blushed and ducked his head momentarily. “One day, we forced Nat here to join us at a game – I got season tickets for my birthday. She was proper annoyed until the announcer was reading off the players’ names and she realized just what game she was attending,” he ruffled Natalie’s hair, making her scoff and giggle. “I wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so engrossed in a sport she’d never taken an interest in before, until a couple months later, when you showed up for the first time.”

Harry was so engrossed in the story, he wasn’t even aware he was leaning forward until Niall gripped his elbow and pulled him back. 

“When the jumbotron flashed your face and the announcer said who you were, Nat was so excited to fill me in on who exactly you were,” he gave Harry a wink, “to my favorite player, that is.” 

Harry wasn’t sure just how much more red his face could turn.

“I guess seeing you both so open and out, gave Natalie the courage to do the same,” the dad was gazing adoringly at his daughter now, his own eyes filled with moisture.

Natalie was nodding, biting at her lip again, “Yeah I, just...seeing my dad thrilled about Louis not only having his boyfriend attend his game, but to be so loud and proud about it, made me brave enough to be honest about myself.” 

_Shit,_ Harry thought, _fucking shit._ He turned to Niall, who was already staring at him with his mouth popped and hanging open. _This girl came out because of me, because of Louis._

“I’m, well, I’m honored to have been a part of your journey, Natalie.” Harry reached out to her, hoping for a hug. She eagerly agreed, tearing away from her mom, who was chuckling fondly, and gave Harry a firmer hug than even Niall had given him this morning. “I know Louis will be, too, when I tell him later,” Harry whispered in her ear, just for her to hear. He felt Natalie gasp, and clutch even tighter around his body, before she let go and moved to give Niall a hug, too – he’d been dramatically sighing in jealousy. 

After they took a couple pictures with her, selfies, individuals and even a group photo, they parted ways with the family and headed back toward the elevator. 

“Shit,” was all Niall said as they stood next to each other and waited for the lift to greet them.

“Yeah,” was all Harry replied.

“Lou will be so stoked to hear about all this,” Niall said, still staring straight ahead. 

“You have no idea,” Harry whispered, smiling. “He was so nervous at the beginning of the season, asking me to come while the tour was on break. I didn’t know why, I’d watched him play footie for years.”

“He really did go all out…to come out, didn’t he,” Niall wiggled his brows, finally turning to face Harry.

“I didn’t believe him at first, when he told me his plan. Me, wearing his jersey, in his private box, as the camera was trained on me and the announcer read my name off and my official title, ‘Tomlinson’s boyfriend.’” Harry used air quotes. “When I finally realized he was being dead serious, it made me nervous. What if they’d kicked him off the team, just ‘cos he loved a guy?”

“Tommo’s fucking crazy, we’ve known this,” Niall cackled, and tacked on, “crazy about you.” 

“Yeah, said he wasted so many years hiding me before, that he didn’t want to do it anymore, what could I do at that point but be fucking proud,” Harry shrugged, just as the elevator arrived and the doors dinged open.

“I think this just means we have even more to celebrate today,” Niall yelled as he jumped into the elevator. “I feel too sober right now.”

“What, end of our first world tour, end of the regular footie season, Harry and his boyfriend get to shag and cuddle for _weeks_ before either have any obligations, aren’t enough reasons for you to use to not only get drunk, but coerce others to join you?”

“Absolutely don’t need any reasons to get drunk, mate, except for you judgmental pricks always on my case about it,” he grumbled, trying to get off the lift before the doors had fully opened on their floor. He might have bumped into it, but Harry was glared into secrecy about that.

“Your liver is going to kill you one day,” Harry giggled. “And not ‘cos it can’t function any longer, but ‘cos it will personally take a knife and stab you for the amount of distress you put it through.”

“Fucking fuck off,” Niall spun Harry around, yanking him through the door marked ‘Tomlinson.’ “I don’t mock you for all those damn sparkly boots you wear.”

Harry shrieked, hastily pulling away and tripping in said sparkly boots, crashing into another body. “You have some nerve, you literally always do,” he scoffed, using the arm he bumped into to find steady footing again.

“Seriously,” was all the voice quipped, before sighing. Harry looked up to see Zayn closing his eyes in frustration. “Are you both fucking pissed right now?”

While Niall chimed in with a, “Not damn near enough,” Harry was quick to point out it was all Niall’s fault. 

“I don’t want to hear it, you’re fucking forty-five minutes late to Lou’s last game of the season, he was nervous enough about today as it was, and then I had to tell him, ‘No, I don’t know where your boyfriend is right now that’s more important,’ when he called up here to get a good luck from you,” Zayn was shaking his head in annoyance.

“Why was he nervous about today?” Harry immediately worried, sobering up a bit. “They’re a shoe-in for the finals.”

Zayn was abnormally speechless at that question, avoiding Harry’s eyes. 

“You know how he is,” Zayn shrugged, “always wants to do his best. Guess he’s nervous about blowing the last game, even if a spot in the finals is guaranteed. Doesn’t want the team to lose and the game to be dubbed a choke, you know.”

“Well, he’s fine, they’re winning,” Harry glanced at the in room TV, since he was too far away from the window to see the scoreboard. “I’ll call Jordan right now and ask him to relay a message next time Lou goes to get water.” 

Harry reached for the en-suite phone, had to hang up and start over a couple of times because he kept fumbling over the incorrect numbers. He wasn’t as sober as he liked to think. 

♡ ♡ ♡

The team didn’t choke.

In fact, they’d won the game 5-1, so Zayn could suck it with his guilt-tripping. Which he was still doing, despite the fact that Harry _was in fact sober, actually 100%_ sober. 

He hadn’t picked up another drink the entire rest of the game, much to Niall’s annoyance. Not even at the pub they’d gone to after the game had ended and Louis had showered and changed. 

If Zayn hadn’t been purposely trying to get Harry to feel guilty, it wouldn’t have mattered because after Harry had talked with Jordan – who’d answered with a _relieved sigh_ at the sound of Harry’s voice – he was properly gutted on his own. 

He couldn’t stop apologizing, unusually touchy. Louis was the more needy one in their relationship, but not tonight. No – tonight, Harry was constantly seeking Louis’ hands, lips, and attention. He felt like he needed to be assured that Louis wasn’t actually mad or upset with him for being late and missing his distressed call. 

“Baby, I’m not mad, I promise,” Louis nuzzled his nose against Harry’s neck, giving him the reassurance he craved. “I just like hearing your voice before I play, you know this. Even when you were on tour I called you every match.”

“And I always answered, but I wasn’t fucking there for you today,” Harry muttered, shaking his head in displeasure at his own actions. 

“Okay, that’s it, I’m going to need you to shut up right now,” Louis snapped.

Harry jolted up and fish-mouthed at Louis, “What?”

“Today’s supposed to be a good day, Haz,” he pulled Harry back down into the crook of his arm. “I finally have you back,” he said in the softest, most airy voice Harry had ever heard him use. And he’d known Louis for over twenty years. “I finally have you back and all to myself after you belonged to the world for _five months._ We have two weeks, just you and me. I don’t want to start it off by your sour attitude just because Nialler sunk his drunk paws into your innocent soul.”

“Fucking swear, Tommo,” Niall shook his head from across the booth. “You weren’t there when Harry pulled out the fucking tequila.”

“I can’t stand your whiskey!” Harry protested.

“That is the best whiskey you will ever get the privilege of tasting, so watch your mouth,” Niall sat up straighter. 

“Okay,” Liam pipped in, leaning slightly out of Zayn’s side to put a hand straight down the middle of the table. “This is a peace wall. There will be no words of anger said through the peace wall. The peace wall is all encompassing and extended to more than just this line. The peace wall will be erect the entire night.”

Zayn rolled his eyes at his husbands antics. Niall and Harry giggled, ‘erect,’ at the same time. Louis scoffed. 

“Babe, a drunk Niall and a sad Harry stand no chance for a night without cat-fighting,” he smooshed his nose into Liam’s freshly washed, hair. “The water at the stadium always makes your hair so soft,” he hummed.

“Is that why you’re always more affectionate after my matches?” Liam asked in amusement, casting Louis a glance. “Does yours do this to you?”

“Harry’s always sticking his face in my hair, regardless of the timing,” Louis gave Harry a teasing shoulder pinch. 

“You always smell so good,” Harry whined, exasperated and playing with the straw in his ice water for a distraction. 

The conversation died down as Niall left the booth to get another pint at the bar, and Zayn and Liam retreated into their own world of flirty touches and looks. They honestly thought Harry and Niall couldn’t see them feeling each other up under the booth.

“Pathetic,” Louis mumbled into Harry’s ear. “They weren’t even the ones separated for five months. You don’t see us going at it in a very packed karaoke bar.”

“Mister Tomlinson, are you just going to pretend last night didn’t happen?” Harry asked with fake scandal.

“At least we had to decency to fuck in the bathroom,” Louis said as he dramatically grabbed his beer and made a show of drinking a sip with his eyebrows pulled up. 

“We were already heading home, I’m not sure why you couldn’t just wait another thirty minutes,” Harry shuddered, “that bathroom was disgusting.” 

“Please, you’re lucky I didn’t shove my dick up your arse in the airport lobby,” Louis sad as if it was the most obvious statement in the world. Harry knew he could pretend to be shocked, but he wasn’t. Not only by his boyfriend’s crass mouth, but because he really wasn’t surprised Louis had wanted to ravage him the second they had laid eyes on each other in a month. 

Harry was startled out of his Louis-bubble when Niall returned, sloshing beer over the rim of his glass and onto the table as he slid back into the booth. Liam made a point of angrily grabbing some napkins from the empty onion ring basket to wipe up the small puddle. Niall pretended not to notice. 

“So, who’s up first?” Zayn asked as he knocked Niall on the back of his head with a soft thwap, using his eyes to point out the mess he’d made that Liam was tending to. Niall stuck his tongue out but shooed Liam’s hand away to finish cleaning it himself.

Harry didn’t miss the way both Zayn and Liam looked pointedly to Louis for an answer, who was pretending not to notice and attempting to give a nonchalant shrug. 

“Haz, what about you and me give it a go, warm the crowd up for Liam’s obscene dance moves?” Louis ignored Liam’s weak, ‘insulted’ grunt, grinning as Zayn giggled.

“Sure, yeah, don’t have to ask me twice to do some karaoke,” Harry agreed easily, ignoring the boys’ suspicious behavior. He got up from the booth, lightly pulling at Louis and his entwined hands. He waited for Louis to finish the last swig of his beer before he really, actually tugged him along to the edge of the stage.

“Hey,” Louis stood up straighter, excitement gleaming in his eyes, “let’s do a _Grease_ song, yeah?” 

“You sure about that? We don’t have the best track record with that soundtrack…” Harry gave a weary glance. They’d watched the movie plenty of times over the last couple of years – it was Louis’ favorite movie after all – but Harry still felt a twinge of guilt for his previous actions. 

“Baby, come on, that was two years ago, I’m definitely not mad anymore. In fact, I’m glad you did that, ‘cos it brought us back together,” Louis was genuinely smiling, so Harry was inclined to believe him.

“Okay,” he found himself nodding, “which song?”

“I think we should do _You’re the One That I Want,_ we always did smash that song,” Louis smirked, “led to some pretty great snog sessions, that one did.”

Harry blushed and lightly smacked Louis’ chest, turning around to let the karaoke DJ know what they wanted to sing. They stood on the side of the stage, watching as a bloke finished a rather terrible rendition of _Piano Man._ Harry was starting to get an adrenaline rush at knowing that all eyes would be on his and Louis’ sure-to-be amazing performance. It’d only been one fully day since he’d been on stage, and it freaked Harry out a bit at just how much he was missing it already.

They took the stage as the guy stumbled off, his performance making more sense now that you could see just how sloshed he was. He handed Harry the microphone he’d been using to parade around the stage, shouting far too closely into Harry’s face a, ‘try following that one, mate!’ 

Louis just laughed loudly and grabbed the other microphone from the barstool sitting onstage as the opening notes started playing. They didn’t even need to discuss who would be singing what part, because they’d sung this song enough times in their youth that it was just second nature. Louis didn’t play Danny Zuko in their school’s musical for no reason. 

“I got chills, they’re multiplying,” Louis sang, emphasizing John Travolta’s style. “And I’m losing control. ‘Cos the power you’re supplying…” Louis sank to his knees, “It’s electrifying!” 

“You better shape up, ‘cos I need a man,” Harry strutted from across the stage. “And my heart is set on you.” Harry pulled Louis up by his shirt collar. “You better shape up, you better understand…to my heart I must be true.” Harry walked around Louis, preparing for the big moment he’d turn and they’d sing the next line to each other in pure dramatic theater fashion.

When Harry flipped back around, Louis was kneeling on the floor again, this time turned away with his back to Harry. He only had one knee on the floor, rather than two like before. 

“Nothing left, nothing left for me to do,” Harry sang in confused amusement. He was sure Louis wouldn’t just _forget_ how their routine went, after all, it was exactly like the movie played out.

“You’re the one that I want,” Louis sang in time with Harry, spinning around on his knee, “you are the one I want.” 

Harry’s part of the, ‘ooh, ooh, ooh, honey’ died on the second ‘ooh,’ as he realized Louis was holding up a black velvet box in one hand. 

“The one that I want, you are the one I want,” Louis continued without him, timidly smiling as he set the microphone down so he could open the box. When he did, a gorgeous, silver band with soft, pale pink diamonds inlayed around the entire band was revealed. 

Harry was so overwhelmed he sputtered out, “Are you sure?” 

Louis let out a loud laugh, dropping his head down for a moment before he looked back up, crinkle-eyed smile and all. “Yes, I’m sure, down deep inside.” 

At that, Harry let out a soft whimper and collapsed onto his knees across from Louis, carelessly dropping his own microphone in favor of reaching out to hold Louis’ cheeks.

“You like to pretend you aren’t, but you’re the world’s biggest softie,” Harry giggled. “Our song, really Lou?” 

Louis’ smile somehow grew and his cheeks were tinted red. _He’s fucking blushing,_ Harry thought. _Have I ever seen him blush?_

“I’m still waiting for an answer, Harold,” Louis sighed, rolling his eyes.

“And I’m still waiting for a question, Lewis,” Harry mocked, giggling. He couldn’t stop giggling. 

The song was still playing, the muted sound of Olivia and John’s voices carrying the rest of the song without Harry and Louis.

“Fucking hell baby, please marry me?” Louis leaned further into Harry’s grip, opening his eyes wide in fake exasperation.

“Of course,” was Harry’s answer. “Without a doubt, of course I will.” 

They stupidly grinned at one another for a few more seconds before Harry pulled Louis’ face closer and he smashed their lips together. Harry could feel the ring box digging into the back of his neck as Louis attempted to wrap his hands around him. That was enough of a reminder for Harry that he wanted that beautiful ring on him as soon as possible, and he released his hold on Louis’ cheeks so he could pull back and grab for the box.

Louis chuckled out a, ‘ok grabby hands, ok,’ and plucked the ring from the box. He held Harry’s left ring finger with shaky hands and fumbled a bit as he tried to slide the ring past Harry’s knuckle. “Fuck, if Zayn put in the incorrect size after I fucking told him what size,” Louis muttered. Eventually, the ring slid into place.

“Wait, Zayn was in on this?” Harry gasped out a laugh, glancing over to their friends. Liam was happy-crying and Zayn was grinning, rubbing his arm soothingly. Niall was full on sobbing, Zayn’s other arm running circles into his brown hair as Niall clutched onto his waist.

“Of course, he was the one who designed it,” Harry snapped his eyes back to Louis. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. Why wouldn’t I have the most prestigious ring designer in London help me design the perfect engagement ring. Besides, think my best mate would murder me for going to a competitor, I don’t care how Zen he is,” Louis gave an uneasy side glace to Zayn, “I bet he could get away with it, too.” 

They made their way off the stage, heading back to the booth and their three friends. Niall rushed to hug them both, using Zayn as leverage to push off and gain speed. 

“I can’t fucking believe it, my little ship is setting sail,” Niall cried, plunging his head between Harry and Louis’ chests. 

“Nialler, come on, is it really that much of a surprise? Harry was doodling his name with my surname constantly in school.”

“I’m just so proud,” is all Niall said, shaking his head in happiness.

“Let me see the ring,” Liam said then. “Z made me wait, wanted me to be at least surprised about that.”

“Excuse me,” Niall shot out and released Harry and Louis. “They both knew about this?”

“Well, Zayn designed the ring, so Liam knew by default, obviously,” Louis said, as if it was the most simple explanation ever. Harry knew this wasn’t going to satisfy Niall.

“I’ve fucking known you both for over ten years! Why the hell am I the last to know about this?” he looked genuinely offended.

“Darling, you can’t keep your mouth shut about anything when it comes to Harry. For Christ’s sake, you send him pictures of your shit,” Louis shook Niall’s shoulder playfully. 

“I can’t help it if my bum makes art,” Niall crossed his arms, turning back to the table to slump into the seat.

“Ni, cheer up, you get to start planning the best bachelor party in the history of bachelor parties,” that got Niall’s attention, so Harry kept on, “that’s the most important duty for the best man.” 

Niall jumped out of the booth so fast, his hip bumped the table and knocked over his now empty pint glass. As he was grabbing for Harry’s neck, the glass fell to the ground and shattered. Louis, never the one to miss the opportunity for a joke, didn’t miss a beat before he said, “Well, at least I’m not the one breaking glass this time.” 

The entire group laughed, Harry letting out a loud, barking, goose laugh – the loudest to laugh at a Louis joke, always the loudest – as Liam reached out again to try to catch a glimpse of Harry’s ring. 

They were interrupted by a waiter bringing over chocolate shakes for everybody. Apparently, Louis had a feeling the proposal would go well, and had asked the waiter for a favor as soon as he could sneak away earlier that night. 

He wanted to make sure they could celebrate in true _Grease_ fashion.

**Author's Note:**

> What timestamp/one shot would y'all like to see next?


End file.
